


Telescope

by misura



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Background Relationships, F/F, No Romance, Oral Sex, Power Imbalance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26546143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Jokaste makes use of Lykaios to alleviate her frustrations.
Relationships: Jokaste/Lykaios (Captive Prince)
Kudos: 10
Collections: Fandom Giftbox 2020





	Telescope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nabielka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nabielka/gifts).



The only words out of Lykaios's mouth had been, _"Yes, Exalted,"_ as Jokaste had conveyed her interest. One did not experience desire for slaves, any more than one experienced pity or sympathy.

One might, however, hope to experience satisfaction. Thus far, Jokaste had been disappointed.

"Does _he_ ask you to service him like this?" she asked, though as a rule, one also did not make conversation with slaves.

It was futile, anyway; what would a slave know of the life of one such as Jokaste? What insights might a slave have in her ambitions, her hardships, the difficulties of being a woman capable of thinking for herself, surrounded by men who thought their gender meant their superiority?

Kastor might be amenable to the occasional whispered suggestion or carefully planted idea; Damen seemed unable to offer even that much, too stuck on what he had been taught, on what his father and (male) companions and (male) teachers had told him was right and honorable and traditional.

Lykaios made a sound that was not quite a protest (slaves did not make protests), and Jokaste realized that she'd been pulling at Lykaios's hair - her glorious, golden hair, lush and long and soft to the touch, just the way Damen liked it.

She pulled at it again, to see if she might get Lykaios to actually break protocol, but Lykaios kept silent this time, focusing on her duty. Jokaste wondered, suddenly, if Lykaios thought it had been an accident, if, along with everything Lykaios had been taught about pleasing Damen, she was now making mental notes on how best to please Jokaste.

It would be a reasonable thing to do. From a slave's point of view, it would be logical to assume that Damen would be king one day, and even if he would not make Jokaste his queen, she would still be a woman of importance at court.

_Fool,_ Jokaste thought, looking down at Lykaios. She felt her body begin to respond to Lykaios's administrations, to Lykaios's skilled mouth and hands - at least until Jokaste snapped a "No!" at her, and Lykaios pulled back, quickly, her expression frightened for the briefest of moments before she smoothed it again into blandness as she returned to a kneeling position, eyes on the floor, waiting.

"I asked you a question," said Jokaste. "I require an answer."

Lykaios did not raise her head. Damen liked his lovers responsive, vocal. Jokaste wondered suddenly if that applied to slaves as well, if Damen was as generous a lover when his partner was a slave as he was when it was Jokaste, or some soldier or village girl who'd caught his eye.

If Lykaios had lain in Damen's arms and had him murmur how much he loved her: her golden hair ('like sunshine'), her soft skin ('like silk'). How badly he needed to be inside her (' _now_ ').

She said, "Well?"

"This slave lives to serve," Lykaios said. It was perfect protocol.

Jokaste did not think any slave had ever told Damen that they lived to serve. "Then serve me. With your mouth alone." Damen would not have cared. As long as he found satisfaction, he was happy, content.

He had never seen her for who she truly was, not because she had kept it from him, but simply because he had never made the effort to look.

_We could have been happy together,_ Jokaste thought. _I would have let you rut with whomever you wanted, while I ruled the country. If only you'd -_ and then she felt herself come undone, heard herself cry out because Damen, damn him, liked it when she got loud.


End file.
